Just Say It
by Bookworm Gal
Summary: Halloween, carving jack-o-lanterns, and a poltergeist. What could happen? One-shot sequel to "Say It Thrice," but can stand alone.


**I wrote this for the Halloween contest on DeviantArt for the BeetleBabes group. I can't draw to save my life, so I figured that a written entry would work out better for me. The only requirements were that it had to be a new piece, it had to be Halloween themed, and it had to be about Beej and Lyds. So this is what I came up with.**

 **So technically this is set after my story "Say It Thrice," which was a crossover with "Danny Phantom" and really fun to write. That information isn't really important to understanding this one-shot though. It just means that due to a series of events that took 35 chapters and approximately 170,000 words to describe, Lydia is actually living in Amity Park at this point in the Fenton household, they know about Beej and Danny's status as ghost (and half-ghost), and Juno is just resigned to the whole mess. But as I said, that isn't really relevant to this story very much (though you should definitely check out "Say It Thrice" and the prequel "Say It Again.")**

Just Say It

Lydia plunged her hand into the slimy, chunky, goopy mess and grabbed a handful. She could feel pieces tearing loose as she pulled while some slipped through her fingers to splat back down again. What little she managed to rip free, the teenage girl dropped into the waiting bowl. The entire process left her hands stained with the sticky substance and the smell of the innards clung to her. And she happily repeated the process again, the sensations familiar and bringing back so many memories.

"I should probably ask where in the world you found so many pumpkins," she said, ripping out more of the guts from the gourd, "or how you managed to fit them all in the kitchen. But I think the real question is where you think we're going to put all the jack-o-lanterns when we're done? Because I know these aren't all going to fit by the front door."

"There are plenty of places that could use a little sprucing up. Leave some here, leave some all over Winter River, leave some next to some sleeping target on their pillow like a decapitated horse's head…"

"You're terrible, Beej."

"A ghost has to have some fun somehow," he said with a grin.

While Lydia was still in the process of gutting one of the several dozen pumpkins that were stockpiled in the room, Betelgeuse apparently decided to move on to the next stage in the process. She wasn't certain that the knife he'd pulled out of his suit was ideal for the task, but the poltergeist was carving away quite enthusiastically. Whatever he had in mind for the final image, he seemed excited about how it was turning out so far. Lydia made a mental note to make sure that any pumpkins that ended up looking like something that would terrify the trick-or-treating children too much or looked like a scene from Dante's wound up suffering "an accident" before he could expose them to the viewing public.

"You had a haunting like three days ago. You have plenty of fun."

"So? What's wrong with having some more? It can get boring between jobs."

Knowing that a bored Betelgeuse was a dangerous one, she couldn't really argue with that. So Lydia just shook her head and moved on to the next pumpkin in line.

"Fine. Just try to avoid putting everyone in town in therapy. They're already jumpy enough."

"Careful, Babes. Keep talking like that and you'll start to sound like June-bug."

Laughing slightly, she said, "Okay, okay, I'll stop worrying so much. So what do you want to do for Halloween? There aren't any good movie marathons this year."

"That depends, Lyds." He set his pumpkin on the table, the carved side still facing away from her, and asked, "What do you want to do? We could hang out around here, we could wander around begging for candy—"

"Don't know how well that would work out, Beej," she interrupted. "Fifteen is considered too old for trick-or-treating and you're… Well, you're over six hundred years old and already dead. I'm pretty sure that disqualifies you."

"Hey, if my Lyds wants to go door to door asking for candy, those losers will give you candy," said Betelgeuse. "Or we can always go for the 'trick' half of the equation. I'm sure I could come up with a few ideas."

Briefly imagining what the poltergeist might consider a reasonable "trick" against anyone who didn't want to give her candy, Lydia shook her head. No one would get hurt, but the emotional and mental trauma would not be pretty. Not to mention how much attention his antics would attract.

"I'm good. Honest. I'm too old to go trick-or-treating around here anyway."

"You're still a kid, Lyds," he said, a little quieter than before. "I'm not going to forget that again. And no one's going to make you grow up faster than you want to. Especially not people who don't want you to enjoy your favorite holiday."

She smiled. Even if he was a chaotic, crazy, and occasionally dangerous ghost with more power than most people could imagine, he could be a pretty nice guy in the right circumstances. And she did appreciate the sentiment.

"Before we decide anything, I think you were about to provide another option, right?" she said. "What was it?"

His mischievous grin should have been a pretty strong clue. Leaning on his pumpkin, the poltergeist twirled the knife between his fingers as he spoke.

"Halloween is supposed to be about spooky stuff and messing with things that go bump in the night. Well, how about we visit the Netherworld again?"

Lydia couldn't help breaking into an excited grin at the idea. She loved visiting the Netherworld. Due to time not flowing evenly between the land of the living and the Netherworld, timing those visits took a bit of luck and patience. But she adored the strange, dark, and twisted place. Betelgeuse assured her that it got old fast, but she sometimes wondered why he was so desperate to get out. The Netherworld was amazing.

"Really?" she asked.

"Sure. If I have it in my head right, the rate of time between the two should be about even that night. While everyone else runs around the streets out here, you can explore as much as you want and see some _real_ scary stuff."

"That would be great, Beej," she said. Then, when her thoughts began to slow down enough to think beyond how much fun it would be, Lydia asked, "Wait, what will Juno say about this trip?"

"What June-bug doesn't know won't hurt me," he said before finally turning his jack-o-lantern around so she could see. "What do you think, Lyds?"

He had to use his power to make this. It was the only explanation. No one could carve a pumpkin that precisely, especially with the clunky knife he'd been using. What she really wanted to know was how in the world he managed to recreate his own features that accurately. He didn't have a reflection and he couldn't appear in photographs, so there weren't many ways for him to see what his face looked like. And yet Lydia was looking right at a perfect image of his likeness.

After staring at the jack-o-lantern in silence for a moment, she finally said, "Well, there's just one thing wrong with it."

"What's that?" he asked, his expression shifting from smug to confused.

"The pumpkin is way too small to be your big head."

Her wicked grin at the joke lasted only a few seconds because Betelgeuse apparently took it as a challenge. She barely saw him move until something wet, cold, and slimy landed on her head. Lydia didn't scream or freak out, too startled to do more than gasp at the unexpected sensation. Then the wet and chunky substance started to slide down, giving her a glimpse of the color orange as it dripped down her hair.

She saw his expression. She knew what it meant. She'd seen that look from him before. He was waiting for the perfect cue.

"Just say it," she said dryly, trying to ignore how hard this stuff would be to wash out.

"It takes a lot of _guts_ to mess with me, Lyds," said Betelgeuse before cackling at her.

Two could play at this game. Returning his mischievous expression with one of her own, Lydia grabbed a handful of pumpkin guts from the bowl and threw it right at his face. She knew he could have blocked or dodged the attack. He certainly had the power. But the orange missile splattered all over his face, leaving pumpkin seeds to tumble onto his striped suit.

The look of approval in his eyes and the predatory grin said more than words ever could. It was on.

It didn't take long for her to realize that there was far more chunky and slimy pumpkin guts flying through the air than could have ever come from even the dozens of pumpkins in the kitchen. He'd started creating more at some point during their battle. But since she was getting just as much ammunition as him, Lydia didn't complain. She was too busy laughing as she hurled the goopy substance at the poltergeist and tried to dodge the retaliating blows.

Was this mature? No. Was it something a teenager girl or a (dead) grown man should be doing? No. Was it fun? Definitely.

It was hard to tell who was won the fight. By the time everyone else came home, the walls and the cabinets were plastered by drying chunks of pumpkin guts and seeds, Lydia was coated in the slimy substance to the point she had to wash her hair three times to get it out and _still_ smelled a little like pumpkins, and somehow Betelgeuse snuck out and left her to clean up the mess.

On second thought, it was pretty clear that the Ghost With The Most came out the winner.

 **Short, funny, and perfect for the holiday. It isn't much, but hopefully someone will get a kick out of it.**

 **Remember, writers love hearing from their readers. Feel free to leave reviews and such. They are always appreciated.**


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